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Full U-hauls and Empty Promises: My Wet Hot Lesbian Summer.

My super conservative but adorable older sister asked me when I was in Richmond a few weeks ago, “Why do lesbians move in together so quickly?”
“U-haul,” I said.
“What?”
“We call it ‘U-hauling’. You know, like the truck?” She laughed and we kept drinking our mimosas. But she got this dykey brain of mine a-thinkin. As I reflect on my exes just in the state of Ohio, most are already living with or are about to move in with their new girlfriend/life partner/etc, and all of these loving couples haven’t even been dating a year. Let’s explore why this phenom happens, and afterwards, I’ll drop some knowledge on you that I learned from Catholic school to hopefully prevent you from doing the same, or at least maybe thinking it through a bit.

WHY DOES “U-HAULING” HAPPEN?

Reason #1: Kids and/or Pets

I know that kids and pets are a little different, so don’t be offended. But pets are often the lesbian’s version of kids. And nothing can justify a move in quite like another two-legged or four-legged creature running around the house. I’ve heard women justify moving in to “help walk the dog” or “keep the cats company”. Eh… actual kids, maybe that kind of makes sense, and we all know how much lesbians love a good “insta-family”. (Insta-family: a term for when a lesbian dates a woman with kids, therefore immediately thrusting herself into a parental role and becoming a babydaddy… or wait, a babymommy… or… fuck I don’t know!)

Reason #2: Bitches be Cray

Have trust issues? Great! Instead of dealing with them and talking to a therapist, go ahead and move in with someone so you can keep tabs on them. Don’t just share friends and experiences, share text history, internet passwords, and pints of ice cream on the couch. That will end really well… trust me, I’ve tried it. I dropped the 30 lbs I gained, but I can never get back my dignity. Or my favorite password.

Women aren’t Jettas. As much as I understand of this line of reasoning a little bit, I’m a conservative dyke. You gotta put a ring on it, ladies, or at least commit to something more than a joint grocery card for fuel points. Yea, finding out if you will work for the long term sooner rather than later makes sense, but in the first year, you can do that with different addresses.

Ok, I’m not trying to cause any fights, and I encourage comments on this post. I want to start an honest discussion about the reasons we all U-haul. That being said, I have found an unlikely solution. At my all female Catholic high school in my junior year, we all took a class ironically called, “Morality.” Besides being encouraged to volunteer a lot, the class was a fluff elective. The best part was the prayer we would say in the beginning of class led by our teacher. What were we praying for? Not world peace, not even for aborted babies or people on death row or the Pope. We would say a prayer for OUR FUTURE HUSBANDS. No joke. Sometimes, we’d pray for his family, wherever they were, or for him, wherever he was. The sheer chauvinism of this farce is nauseating when I look back on it, but now, as a agnostic lesbian, I am going to lead you to in a mantra not for some deity in the heavens, but for someone you can see in the mirror: yourself.

Dear Self:

I promise to not get caught up in the honeymoon phase of a relationship and start splitting large pizzas and bottles of wine and losing myself.

I promise to not surprise my girlfriend of four weeks with her own toothbrush at my place.

I promise to stay allergic to cats so I cannot U-haul with women until I have hoarded a sufficient amount of Claritin. (If you aren’t allergic, fake it.)

I promise that whoever I end up with will know how awesome and sexy and smart I am without me having to tell them. And if we fight, that they have a better comeback than the tacky and uncreative response, “You’re crazy.”

I promise that IF I move in with someone, I won’t lose my dignity. Or my friends. Or my back-up apartment.

And finally, I promise to pray for all those girls being told to pray for the future husbands out there. Hey girls, it’s okay. Your husband might end up being a wife. And there’s nothing wrong with that.